


the light of his life

by biscuitswrites



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: M/M, Theres no dialogue, explicit refernces to the book, just me thinking about the way light is used in the goldfinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27554842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biscuitswrites/pseuds/biscuitswrites
Summary: Light as it passes through Theo's life.
Relationships: Theodore Decker & Boris Pavlikovsky, Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	the light of his life

Theo looked at the anatomy lesson. He looked at his mom, loosely gesturing with pointed fingers. She’s explaining the lighting of it, the bouncing colours. The pale on pale on pale, the glow. Theo thinks that his mom glows, and when, less than an hour later, she dies, she takes the glow with her. 

Theo wakes up at the Barbour’s. He missed his mom again. He saw her getting on the train but the door closed. The moon is coming through the edges of the heavy curtains, and he wonders wether it looks the same wherever she is. He hopes she does. 

Some glow returns to his life in Vegas. Badr al Dine shines where ever he is, and Theo wants to stay in that glow forever. In the days he spends with him, the Nevada sun feels less sharp offset by his company, and the moon could never hurt his eyes, but its never looked brighter than it did those years in Vegas. 

The lights of New York are too much, too fast. Flash, flash flash. Headlights blind him. There’s a dim glow to the workshop, but it’s golden instead of silver, and it looks too much like filtered sunsets through blinds that didn’t quite close. Theo always looks washed out in gold tones, at least that’s what Boris says. 

The bird shines with a kind of light too. It’s colourless though, a simple glow that can’t truly be seen, only imagined. But imagined is as good as any truth through art, its all just brushstrokes. For a long time, the bird is his only lighthouse.

Pippas talking on the back steps. She’s talking and her fair skin is breakable china in the moonlight. And Theos trying to soak up what he can, but his eyes are drawn to the silver moon hung in the clouds, veiled but so, so big. It’s a super moon, the kind his mom would try to point out through the smog when she woke him up and he would stare at it though bleary eyes. Pippas still talking, and her skin is pale on pale on pale, but its ghostly, translucent. Her eyes are golden though. 

Boris comes back, and Theos eyes need time to adjust. Neons and darks, washed out greys and diamond bling bling in a portrait with no care for colour or sense. Just when Theos eyes start to water, Boris turns his pale face back to him, shining white, and Theo takes a breath, like the ones stolen in a moonlit pool so long ago, before diving back down, again with Boris at his side. 

The painting is back in museum light. And though Theo relishes the days in all those moods, the winter and the golden sun and the everything in between, he’s glad. He doesn’t need his light house anymore. The moon looks the same wherever you go. And you can chase the time zones where the moon never rises and the sun never sinks, but its an infinity until the universe blinks out on its own vastness, and for Theo, that’s enough.

**Author's Note:**

> this was just a lil drabble i thought up, i don't think i'll do much more with it, but the way light is referenced in the book is chefs kiss


End file.
